I am still thinking about my time at the Santa Monica Park feeding
the homeless.

As I was leaving the premises, I emptied my pockets of the disposable
cash I had on me. A dollar here, some quarters there. Less
than $10 in all. I would have spent more than that if I had gone
to the movies.

(Kim:
I rarely give to panhandlers. I guess it comes from the fear
of getting mugged
from my parents. It is strange that my mom worked in poor neighborhoods
as a social worker in the late 30s, and was so afraid of the
poor. It is also strange the parts of us that are cast from
the same molds as our parents.)

As
I was walking, a man waved at me and said he wanted to ask
a question. I kind of blew him off. I was afraid he was going
to ask me for money. Several people had asked me every few
feet and I was getting frustrated at being asked over and
over. Frustrated by the numbers of people who seemed
to need something, frustrated by my inability to be more immediately
helpful. In a way that would feel safe and—if I
am being honest—convenient. At least that is what I think it
was.

I think I was rude to him. At the very least, I was
brusque. I don’t feel very comfortable when men I don’t
know talk to me on the street. Unless they are old
men.

That is a sad admission. But it is true. I have to
work hard to feel safe walking around in the world, especially
since I often prefer my own company and thoughts.

So I said somewhat impatiently to this guy before he even got
the words out, “I’m tapped out. I already gave away my
money today.”

He smiled and said to me, “I just wanted to ask if
you would consider marrying me. You are such a pretty lady.”

I told him it was an appealing idea but that I was already
married.

I instantly felt ashamed and confused. Maybe
it would have been followed by a hustle but the immediate request
had not been for money. It had been for a moment of recognition,
maybe for a kind word or a little joking. And I had been
too impatient and too defended for that.

And I thought, what the hell have we come to? I felt sorry
for both of us. For him, in his loneliness and need to be
seen as a man. And for me, in my fear and need to have my
privacy and space as a woman respected.

And all of this after I had just volunteered on a lunch line
for the homeless and had really noticed all of the individuality
that passed before me.

What a fucked up world.

(Kim:
Isn't it really whether you want to look at whether the glass
is half filled
or half emptied? Again, it is the yin and yang that describes
most things. We have Iran supposedly threatening destruction
of their neighbors, and we have millions who engage in daily
activities that benefit others.)